Fair Verona
by ProbableImpossibilities
Summary: On Perim, tribal differences run deep; however, children, who care not about the worries of an adult's world, can form friendships that break barriers. But how long can such a thing really last..?
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

Tom looked down at his watch, which read 2:30 p.m. He then lethargically lifted his head to read the clock on the wall: 2:35. Of course, it was hard to tell, given that he could only keep his eyelids half-open. A yawn beside him turned his attention away from the slowly ticking hands of the timepiece just long enough for him to realize how terribly bored he was. "Kaz, when did you say your mom would be back?"

His friend yawned again, vaguely reminding Tom of a lion just finishing off a large wildebeest carcass. "She won't get here until at least six."

"That's what I thought." Tom looked up at the clock again. Six o'clock seemed like an eternity away. "It almost seems impossible to be this bored. Especially at your house."

Tom had known Kaz for a very, very long time. The skinny red-haired boy had been his best friend since before he could remember. They usually spent long hours hanging out doing interesting things, like playing video games, skateboarding, or battling each other in the Beta Drome. Today, however, was one of those Saturdays when one couldn't find anything interesting to do. They couldn't even port to Chaotic; Tom had accidentally left his scanner in his locker on Friday, and Kaz would feel bad going without him. Therefore, the two of them were forced to sit in Kaz's room while his mom ran errands.

"Let me guess; you're not thinking about something we could be doing right now," Kaz intoned sarcastically. "You've been sitting there not thinking about that for hours now."

Tom looked at the wall clock again. "We could fix your clock," he said. "It's five minutes fast."

Kaz flopped, obviously exasperated, onto the bed. "Brilliant! I'm SO glad you thought of that! You know, it's such a wonderful idea to just crush my five minutes of deluded hope."

Tom shrugged. "It would at least give us something to do. Besides, I haven't heard you suggest anything."

Kaz just stared at the ceiling. "We could talk…"

"About what?"

"I don't know! I wish you hadn't left your scanner in your locker."

"You know, porting to Chaotic wouldn't help our boredom. We at home would have no idea how much fun we would be having in Chaotic, therefore we would still be bored out of our skulls." As soon as the words left his lips, Tom realized how confusing and ridiculous that would sound to anyone who had never been to Chaotic. Chaotic was actually a trading card game, but once a player got really good at it, they could use their code scanner (used to transfer card codes to the online game) to transport to an alternate dimension and battle each other by using Creature codes to virtually transform themselves into the Creatures. Once in Chaotic, players could also transport to Perim to scan Creatures in person.

"At least we would only be bored in one dimension." Suddenly Kaz sat up, making the ancient bedsprings groan. "Hey, didn't you say something earlier today about some story Maxxor told you? You know, the one from his past, or something like that?"

"Oh. I forgot about that." Tom usually ported to Perim every day after school to help Bodal in the armory. Over the years, he had earned somewhat of a trustworthy reputation in the Overworld after majorly assisting Maxxor on numerous occasions. That was why he was the only human to ever get the job. No matter how boring Bodal could be, it was certainly much better than working at the local McDonalds for minimum wages. Since he spent almost every day in Kiru City, it was pretty much certain that he would end up running into Maxxor at least once or twice. Even so, Tom hadn't been able to get even half of the story out of the Overworld Ruler himself; thus, his sources were numerous and varied. Some of them even told him things that contradicted other bits of information in their accounts. Still, he had managed to piece together a pretty good understanding of the events. However, Tom wasn't sure he should tell the story to Kaz. If Maxxor didn't want to tell him, he most certainly wouldn't want him to tell anyone else.

"C'mon, let's hear it!" Kaz said eagerly.

"I don't know…I don't think Maxxor would want me to tell anyone."

"Aw, c'mon…after all, we're just a bunch of humans. Creatures don't care about what we tell each other. We don't even live on the same planet!"

"Still…"

"I don't see what the problem is, Tom. Don't you trust me?"

"What? No! That's not what I meant!"

"Then why won't you tell me?"

"I already told you why I can't tell you!"

"Come on. When have I ever spilled any of your secrets?" Kaz looked at Tom, daring him to answer. "Name one time."

Tom paused. He couldn't think of any.

"See? It'll just be between you, me, and old Maxxy. Okay?"

Tom thought for a moment. He was loathing spilling Maxxor's deepest secrets, but he was just so bored. "Fine. I'll tell you, okay? But you cannot tell anyone else, understood?"

Kaz nodded enthusiastically. "My lips are sealed!"

"Okay. Here goes…"

Kaz looked about ready to burst from excitement. It kind of scared Tom a little. Hmm. Maybe he should start out with something dramatic.

"A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far, away…"

"Hey, that's directly from Star Wars! You can't just copy that; it's plagiarism!"

"Okay, okay! You don't have to be so picky! Sheesh!" Tom took a deep breath. "Okay, let's try this again…A long time ago, on a planet called Perim, there lived a fantastic race of people called Creatures; powerful beings with supernatural abilities. The Creatures divided themselves into four tribes; the Overworlders, the Underworlders, the Danians, and the Mipedians. Each tribe ruled approximately one-fourth of the planet; the Overworlders ruled most of the surface, the Underworlders controlled most of the subterranean regions, the Danians inhabited the mighty pillars supporting the Overworld, and the Mipedians ruled the deserts of endless sand."

"Why are you talking about all of this in past tense?" Kaz interrupted. "The tribes still exist! You're making it sound like they all just up and died or something."

"I don't know! I guess it just sounds better that way! Now, stop interrupting, or you'll never get to hear the story!"

"Okay! Jeez, someone's snippy!"

"Arrrgh! Now, where was I? Oh, yeah. Our story begins in the capital of the Overworld; the metropolis known as Kiru City. In the center of this city stands a magnificent palace, a towering structure that can be seen from miles around. Near the very top of this tower is a window, and in this window stands a Creature with golden skin and immeasurable age and wisdom. He's also got a wicked sweet white beard that trails along the ground when he walks. This Creature's name is Methuselah, and it is with him that our story begins…"

* * *

><p>AN: Is that not the most retarded titlesummary you have ever seen? I wish I didn't suck that bad.

So, this is really old, and I just started writing more recently, so these first few chapters are not my best writing ever. But I really liked the story, so I'll keep with it. I hope you like it!


	2. Origins

Chapter One

Methuselah sighed as he watched the sun rise over Kiru City. Life had sped by so quickly; where had all the years gone? He could hardly believe what was about to happen. He felt much too young for this important milestone. Satisfied with the rising sun's spectacle, Methuselah turned his attention back to his son, Marc, who was pacing impatiently up and down the hallway in which they were standing. Marc looked feverish, and Methuselah didn't blame him; this was a very, very big day for everyone.

"It's taking too long!" Marc suddenly shouted, shattering the silence like a ram bulldozing a glass window pane."Something must have gone awry! By the Cothica, if anything's happened to her or the child…"

"Peace, Marc. You're just nervous, which is perfectly normal. If it helps your nerves, I talked to the midwife not two minutes ago. She said that everything was going perfectly; you have no cause for worry."

Marc momentarily paused his pacing to turn and glare at Methuselah. "'No cause for worry'? Don't think I am so daft as to fail to notice you sitting there fidgeting and sweating bullets!"

Methuselah chuckled. "You must understand I am reassuring myself as well as you. Come, have a seat," he said, indicating a bench beneath the window. "We both need to relax."

Marc sighed and sat, trying to regain some sense of composure. "Fine. I concede once again to your immeasurable wisdom."

Another chuckle from Methuselah. "Immeasurable? Hardly. My cranium may contain vast amounts of knowledge, but knowledge is useless unless I remember it, which is quickly becoming quite a challenge."

Suddenly, a door to Methuselah's right opened, and a woman poked her head into the hallway. "Congratulations, Sire!" she said with a smile. Marc bolted straight up off the bench and rushed past the woman and into the room. Methuselah smiled and followed his son as fast as his legs would allow. Marc's wife, Herida, lay on a bed in the center of the room, looking exhausted and covered in sweat. Despite her haggard appearance, she was beaming from ear to ear, holding two tiny bundles of life in her arms. The midwife closed the door and stood next to Methuselah, while Marc went to join his wife. "Two beautiful boys, Methuselah, sir. Funny thing, that; I don't think any royal couple's ever had twins." Methuselah smiled. They were both so precious.

"Herida," Marc breathed, "I suppose this solves our naming problem." Methuselah silently chuckled as he recalled the countless hours the couple had spent arguing over what to name the child should it turn out to be a boy.

"He was born first," Herida said gesturing toward the infant cradled in her right arm. "Out of respect to you, I decided to call him Maxxor." Marc smiled. "Don't you want to give him the name you picked out?"

"No, no; Chromax is more suited for the youngest. Besides, I knew you would end up naming the first-born anyway. It's simply non-sensical to waste time arguing over the inevitable."

"You're not being stubborn about this? Has labor addled your brain? Someone help me, my wife's gone insane!"

"Oh, quiet, you." Herida chuckled. "I just hope the boys don't grow up to be rascals like their father."

"Don't say that; it hurts my feelings."

"Oh it does, does it?" Herida leaned forward, smiling. "Maybe I should kiss it and make it better." Marc smiled. "Maybe you should; but not now. Your arms are full, remember?" Herida turned her gave back to the twins, still cradled in her arms. "How could I forget? I'm insulted you asked."

Methuselah decided now was the time to speak up. "Excuse me, but may I...?" Herida nodded. "Of course you may." Very carefully, she held her first-born child out to her father-in-law. Methuselah very gingerly picked up the tiny bundle and held him in his arms. So, he thought, you're Maxxor. The infant looked up at him wonderingly, seeming to try to figure out who he was. Unlike his younger brother, who was wailing with every bit of air in his lungs, he kept blessedly silent and serene; Methuselah would have worried that he wasn't even breathing, if not for the steady rise and fall of his stomach. The child had skin like his mother, a calm yet somehow ferocious shade of green. However, he had his father's eyes, the color of a setting sun; he had also inherited his shock of jet-black hair from Marc. In fact, in these respects both newborns were remarkably similar; but for Maxxor's defining feature it would be near impossible to tell them apart. And oh, Maxxor's feature was quite defining; Methuselah had never seen the like in a Vlaeryn before. His skin was laced with strange markings in a violent shade of purple, and his hair was streaked with white. This lead to an overall fearsome appearance that contrasted sharply with the child's newborn features. Still, he was a beautiful infant; Methuselah couldn't possibly deny it. There was something about Maxxor that gave him the feeling he would grow up to do great things. Of course, it could be the sentimental atmosphere of the event; but then again, it could be something more. Maxxor, growing tired of Methuselah, began to fidget and strain towards his mother. "Grandpa Methuselah isn't very interesting anymore, is he?" Methuselah chuckled, handing the squirming child back to Herida.

"Hey," Marc interjected, "isn't it my turn?"

"You're just going to have to be patient," Herida replied. "This isn't a petting zoo." She did, however, hand the infant over to her husband. Marc took the child and cradled him in his arms. "My son," he whispered, with eyes so full of love that Methuselah nearly burst into tears. "My son, Maxxor."

-XXXXX-

"This story is dumb. There's absolutely no action in it!" Kaz protested angrily. "It's so... mushy. I bet if it was about Chaor it wouldn't be this boring."

Tom sighed. Kaz's favorite Creatures were Underworlders, and his all-time hero was Chaor; Kaz was practically obsessed with him. No story was interesting to Kaz unless it had Chaor in it. "Just chill and be patient. It gets better; trust me."

"Okay, okay," Kaz grumbled. "But I'd better by thoroughly entertained."

"Trust me, you won't be disappointed." Tom thought for a moment. "I guess we'll skip ahead a few years; ten, to be exact. This part of our story begins on a narrow street in Kiru City's residential district..."


End file.
